Spellcaster (Weatherstone College, #1)

by Jaymin Eve

“Precious?” he murmured, that one word dripping with fury. Maybe it was my sanity failing with my life, but it didn’t sound as if his ire was directed at me. For once. “Who hurt you?”

The hot-blooded part extended to more than just sex, it was an all-encompassing possessiveness that demanded warlocks destroy anyone who upset their mate.

“I could absolutely be a spellcaster. I mean, the rarest, most powerful of magic, where I can literally draw on the energy of the world itself for near limitless power.”

Conquester livara incidium morando. The ancient language of magic users was no longer part of our day-to-day speech, but we still used it in spells. Everyone knew the rough translation of the motto: “To conquer life you must first accept death.”

Alice cleared her throat, looking uncomfortable. “You’re not making it up. Logan looked exactly like that, and you two were inseparable. Even though he’s Trevor’s age, he just gravitated toward you and was überprotective.”

“Even against us, right?” Trevor said, brow furrowing. “Little shit was always sneaking Paisley away, and beating us up for teasing her.”

“Murder or not, maybe you two should bang it out first. Imagine the hate fucking. That’s way too fine a warlock to waste as a nemesis if there’s no hate fucking.”

“Repeat after me, we don’t fuck bad boys.” Belle opened her mouth, and then slammed it shut. “Sorry, I can’t. My programming is preventing me from lying.”

“If I wanted to murder you, Precious, you’d be dead.”

He blinked, and a rumble filled his chest as he stared with a look of disbelief. “Did you just witch-slap me?”

not liking chocolate milk was the first sign of a sociopath, as far as I was concerned.

Logan and Noah were in the middle of their evening run—running for fun explained a lot of what was wrong with both of those assholes—when the moonlight washed over them.

The reality of maturing and searching for my future, while simultaneously missing my childhood and old life, was disconcerting to say the very least.

I think it looked like the aliens from those old Sigourney Weaver movies.”

“Your life has been in my hands for years, and I’m not ready for it to end yet.”

“Hear me now, Paisley Hallistar. There’s always only been one endgame for us. The journey might vary, but the end will never fucking change. Our endgame was written when you were four.”